


scones and sweets

by civillove



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: “We should do this more often,” Dani says, referring to his previous comment, “Hang out and…do things that don’t have a dead body or a murder weapon.”Malcolm smirks, leaning against the counter space next to her, his fingers playing with the string of her apron. “Is that what normal friends do?”--short fluffy fic because many messaged me about missing my brightwell. so enjoy dani being a terrible baker, scone making and murder scenes.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	scones and sweets

**Author's Note:**

> do you all know how much i hate coming up with titles?????? :)!

Dani frowns as she looks inside the oven, tilting her head at the testing scone they put in there fifteen minutes ago. She’s really not sure if its supposed to look so lumpy…she gets it’s a _scone_ and won’t be perfect but this one looks like a distressed hamster. She straightens her back and puts her hands on her hips, thumbing at the string of her apron as she glances across the counter at Malcolm who is whisking a lemon glaze like it’s second nature to him.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He smiles a little, not looking at her, counting whisking numbers to himself. Not only that but he’s heard her say this same phrase at least four times while baking together. Bright puts the bowl down, getting a small pot for the stove so he can dump the glaze and heat it up.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I’m not sure the scone looks alright in there.” She motions to the oven and Bright crosses the kitchen to where she’s standing, gently placing a hand on her hip to move her out of the way so he can bend down. He glances inside the oven and looks over his shoulder at her,

“It looks fine. We can give it another five minutes and check it then before we put the others in.”

Dani lets out a long sigh, poking one single finger at their dough triangles which are tie-dyed hues of purplish blue. She can feel Malcolm’s wandering gaze landing on her, that same amused smile tugging at the ends of his mouth because he’s keeping a range of commentary to himself. She narrows her eyes at him, a breath from her lips fluttering the curls resting on her forehead despite trying to gather them up into a bun.

“What?”

He puts his hands up innocently, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re _thinking_ it.”

“Oh,” Malcolm nods and dumps the contents of the glaze into the small pot for the stove. “Now who’s the profiler?”

Dani tries not to roll her eyes so hard that they end up permanently staring into the back of her skull. There’s the softest of pouts on her lower lip as she leans against the counter, watching him slowly heat the lemon glaze on his stove, stirring occasionally with the whisk. It’s incredibly unfair how _good_ he is at this; how easy it is for him to bake things and they come out…not lumpy or burnt. Maybe this was a mistake, trying to get him to teach her—she just wanted something fun in her back pocket to make if she ever needed to. And it felt a lot easier to ask Bright what to do than try to follow a recipe online. She’s been a part of that disaster before.

“How bad is it?” She presses and Malcolm’s shoulders shake with a gentle laugh.

“We won’t know until we open up the tester, okay?” But she doesn’t believe him and fixes him with a look that breaks down his wall and the words he’s keeping from her. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, trying to force back loose strands that won’t stay in place.

“Look, I told you not to choke the dough—”

“How bout I choke somethin’ else?” She asks, fluttering her eyelashes as she sets her elbows down on the counter and pillows her chin.

Malcolm grins at her, not missing a beat, “Which, you _did,_ and broke the blueberries you were working into the mix. Now it’s stained with purple splotches that make it look like a crime scene.”

Dani grumbles to herself as the oven beeps and she reaches for a pot-warmer before pulling the lid back and grabbing onto the tray. She tilts her head at the sad looking scone, knowing that if Malcolm would have made them they would have come out less burnt and probably in a proper shape that actually resembled a triangle.

“I have rough hands; I can’t help that most of the blueberries smashed. How else are you supposed to work dough?”

He smiles, shaking his head as he assesses the solitary scone, lifting it up to check the bottom. It’s a soft brown, not burnt, so maybe _that’s_ at least a success. He breaks into it with his fingers, checking the consistency and purses his lips. “That’s perfect. Probably should have it in the oven for a little less time, add the glaze and then finish it off.”

He then reaches for one of her hands, covering it with his own. The pads of his fingertips are warmer given the fact they were just picking apart a hot scone and the sensation travels right up her arm and settles in-between the knobs of her spine.

“And your hands are not rough. Cold, sure, but not too rough.” He runs his thumb over her knuckles, his blue gaze matching her own. She offers a small smile back to him and he seems to realize at that moment that he’s still holding onto her hand because he clears his throat, dropping her touch before he returns his attention to the glaze left on the stove.

“You can put the other ones in the oven.”

Dani nods and chews on her lower lip as she carefully puts the scone he’s broken in half onto a plate while putting the remaining dough on the pan. She slips it into the oven and adjusts the timer, breaking off a piece of their finished product to put into her mouth.

She hums, “Not bad.”

Malcolm smiles over his shoulder, grabbing a lemon from his fruit basket and begins shaving the rind for zest into the pot. “You haven’t even had the finished product yet, just wait. Usually I add the zest to the dough too with the blueberries for some additional flavor but I didn’t buy enough lemons. And you were having enough trouble with one fruit.”

She glares at him, bumping their hips and a gentle laugh leaves his lips as he whisks the glaze. “I guess I _did_ kinda spring this idea on you.”

He shrugs his one shoulder, turning the fire low to keep the glaze warm while they wait for the oven. He brushes his hands on his apron before he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t mind. I like baking and I like…” He hesitates for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working as he considers a set of words before he says them, “I like spending time with you.”

Dani smiles a little, rocking backwards on the balls of her feet as she reaches for another piece of the tester scone. She digs her fingers in, handing him a bite before she claims another for herself. She knows she shouldn’t keep checking on the scones in the oven, but she can’t quite help it. She’s excited about their finished work but also, she’s a little paranoid about how they’re going to turn out. If the tester is any indication, this might be one of the first baked goods she’s made that didn’t look like a charcoal lump.

“Stop watching them.” Malcolm tugs her elbow so she moves away from the oven and she lets out an annoyed huff before hopping up onto his counter to sit and wait.

“We should do this more often,” Dani says, referring to his previous comment, “Hang out and…do things that don’t have a dead body or a murder weapon.”

Malcolm smirks, leaning against the counter space next to her, his fingers playing with the string of her apron. “Is that what normal friends do?”

Dani folds her hands on her lap, licking remnants of blueberry from the corners of her lips. “I think it’s definitely a step in the right direction. My kitchen always looks like a crime scene after I’m done baking.”

He hums, tugging at the string of her apron just because he can, “I’m not sure how you even have room to move around in your kitchen, let alone bake something.”

She huffs as the timer goes off. Malcolm pulls the scones out of the oven, brushes lemon glaze over them and sticks them back on the rack for a few more minutes. “Okay Mr. Marble Countertops, my dad used to make cookies and cakes just fine in our hole-in-the-wall kitchen, so I don’t want to hear it.”

Malcolm smiles gently, his eyes slipping over the warm expression on her face. She can tell that he wants to ask her about her father, about what she remembers best about his baking or maybe what she liked the most that he made—but he’s toeing the line on invading her privacy. Which, she appreciates. Sometimes Bright doesn’t know the difference between building a profile and crossing boundaries. He wants to pose a question, she can tell by the way his lips almost form the letters but he looks down at the counter and stims his fingers instead, not wanting to upset her. It’s a big step from where they’ve started, where Bright took one look at her and let himself _in_ without asking because of how horribly perceptive he is.

Now, they’re close friends and even though he _can_ ask, he doesn’t always out of respect for her.

“It’s okay,” She says after a moment, bumping her knee against his forearm as he leans next to her.

He nods, tracing a circle onto her knee as he figures out exactly what he wants to say and how to say it. Her eyes flutter down to his hands and she tries not to think about how they’ve been doing this lately too, crossing a completely different kind of boundary. Both of them are so tactile in how they handle things, in how they communicate, that at one point or another they just started talking through touch. It’s nothing extreme but it’s a big enough deal that she can feel the difference between them. They haven’t changed but moreso it’s another added layer of intimacy to who they already were.

“What do you miss? That he used to make.”

Dani licks her lips, considering the question as she digs back through years that feel like Polaroids in her mind’s eye. “Every year for my birthday, he’d pull together this…strawberry chocolate chip ice cream cake. Fresh strawberries and everything.” She dips her chin a little at the memory, a soft smile overtaking the gentle ache in her chest that’s still there from missing her father.

“And way too much chocolate syrup.” She adds after a moment, Malcolm smiling at her in response. He squeezes her knee when the timer beeps and moves to turn the dial to ‘off’, taking the scones out to set on top of the oven.

He adds one more layer lemon zest and Dani hops down to stand next to him, tilting her head at some of the shapes. “Some of these…are a mess.”

Bright’s cellphone begins chirping in his back pocket and he pulls it out, motioning to the tray. “That’s what happens when your dough is lumpy and you can’t cut even triangles.”

Dani makes a face but says nothing as Malcolm answers his phone and she begins to move the scones onto an awaiting plate, finishing the tester by popping too much of it into her mouth. She wishes she would have thought to make coffee while they were waiting around for the batch to be done. There are only a few words exchanged over the phone but just by Bright’s demeanor alone, she thinks she knows what he’s talking about by the time he hangs up.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get this baking thing right.” She pulls out a sheet of plastic wrap and covers the scones carefully.

“Well, you’re in luck for now.” Malcolm says, making sure his stove is off before he begins walking out of the kitchen backwards so he can still address her, “That was Gil—we have a case.”

\--

Dani’s been to a lot of crime scenes, she’s seen a lot of fucked up shit from human nature that she wishes she could forget. None of it lulls her into a false sense of normalcy, or anything, but sometimes she finds herself thinking after a particularly bad case that nothing else has the compacity to surprise her.

The universe does its best to prove her wrong.

She steps over the threshold of an apartment and there’s only a few places she can stand unless she goes into another room because the carpet of the living room is _soaked_ with blood. It’s more than she’s seen in a long time and despite her walking very carefully towards the body of the victim, it feels like it’s _everywhere._ On the floor, the walls, on pieces of furniture—

“God this poor woman.” She mumbles, mostly to herself and suddenly Malcolm’s hand is on her elbow, stopping her from taking a step.

She blinks, looking down at where she was about to move and—another puddle of blood. He gives her a soft, but grim expression and moves around her so he can take a look at the woman who’s face down near her couch. It takes Dani a few moments longer than usual to adjust to the scene, still warm and comfortable from the space of Malcolm’s kitchen as she attempted to learn how to make scones. The anxiety of what’s laid out before her digs under her skin and nips at her nerve endings but she forces herself to _look._

Dani crosses her arms over her chest as if it’ll help her feel more composed and watches Bright make his way across the living room to where Edrisa is crouched down next to the body of the victim. JT is working a path around the back of the couch and Dani wonders if that would have been simpler; she feels like she’s playing a twisted game of hopscotch as she steps next to the coffee table.

“How is there _this_ much blood?” She asks, even though she’s certain that she doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Well, in an average adult there's about 1.2 to 1.5 gallons of blood in the human body so,” There’s a tone of amusement to Edrisa’s commentary as she digs in her bag, not really looking at any of them. “You do the math.”

Malcolm puts a hand on her wrist to stop her from speaking, gently shaking his head as Edrisa looks up and notices the expression on Dani’s face. She blushes a little, nodding before mumbling a few words to herself and grabs the pair of scissors she was looking for from her bag.

“We’re going to need to cut her shirt to get a better look at the wounds.”

Bright nods in agreement, tilting his head as he tugs the back of the shirt up. “Right up to the collar.” He instructs and Edrisa follows suit, gently snipping the material with scissors as JT leans over the back of the couch to get a better look.

“I’m counting at least…five stab wounds,” He points them out, Dani’s nails digging into the skin of her forearm as she watches him go from placement to placement. “There’s one in her neck which would explain the blood spatter.” Malcolm gestures to the wall next to the victim, standing for a moment.

He gets this faraway look in his eye that Dani easily identifies, the woman’s last moments playing out in front of him as if he can actually see her. He doesn’t move as much as he usually does because of the amount of blood on the carpet but he gestures to the position of the victim. Bright makes a hand gesture that shows him stabbing his own neck, his fingers splaying outward as he demonstrates blood spraying the wall.

“Our killer hit her carotid artery which means…” Malcolm trails off for a moment, eyes following the splatter behind him, some of it staining hung picture frames, “Which means she would have lost nearly 100 milliliters of blood through each heartbeat,” He demonstrates his hand as if he’s using a paintbrush, “That's about 30 seconds worth of it on the wall.”

Dani shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to take a deep breath through her nose. “How long would have it taken her to…”

Bright is looking at her when she feels strong enough to open up her eyes again, attempting to dive into the calm and collected blue she sees there. It’s almost ridiculous how at ease he seems to feel in a scene like this, comforted by numbers and statistics and textbook definitions. She wishes she could pull on the same mask, bury it all under a wave of certainty, relying on profiles and educated hunches.

“Not long.” He says, sparing her that detail at least.

“Was that cause of death?” JT asks as Edrisa tugs the victim’s shirt aside to get a better look at the wounds left behind.

“Bright’s right about the carotid—these wounds she might have been able to sustain but not the one to the neck.” She chews on her lower lip, leaning back until she’s pressed against the bottom of the couch.

Dani lets out a slow breath, taking a step back from them to give herself some breathing room. There’s a balcony to her to her left and she gently opens the handle to step outside. Sounds of New York greet her, wafting in with the afternoon breeze, the sun on her face doing little to remove the chill working its way down her spine. Whoever did this…the _anger_ is displayed so easily in the crime before her. She doesn’t need to know how to put together a good profile to see that. Once they identify the victim, she’s willing to bet her money on some sort of abusive man in her life.

And Dani can’t wait to catch him.

She feels Bright before she sees him, leaning her forearms onto the banister as she turns to look at him. He smiles gently, out of habit and takes one of his rubber gloves off so he can touch the planes of her back.

“You alright?”

She hums but doesn’t say anything for a few moments, deciding to concentrate on the feeling of Bright’s fingers rubbing circles into the muscles of her back. She licks her lips, straightening her posture as she turns to look into the living room where Edrisa is helping her forensic assistants move the body,

“It’s just—”

She motions again to the blood and Bright’s thumb circles her waist as his palm rests nearly on her hip. He pulls away his touch then, putting his rubber glove back on, letting out a soft hum as he jumps onto her line of thought. Though, she supposes it isn’t that hard, especially since he always seems to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I was considering the same thing. The violence is…incredibly possessive.” Dani bites her tongue on asking how he can see that playing out in the room before them.

“Just makes you wonder how you can trust anyone.” She says, mostly under her breath and to herself but Bright nods his head in agreement.

“We’ll get this guy,” He offers as JT waves them back into the crime scene, “The overkill is sloppy and emotionally driven.” He motions to the blood stains left behind after Edrisa’s team picks up the body, “He’s going to be spiraling, most likely trying to leave the city.”

“Once we dig into the people in her life, that shouldn’t be hard to spot.” JT agrees, taking his rubber gloves off.

Dani nods, making her way across the apartment to leave—she just hopes they’re right.

\--

Pushing the door to the conference room open with her shoulder, Dani carries in the plate of scones her and Malcolm made that morning to set on the table. JT grins and instantly zeros in on the baked goods, hand stretched out and ready to take one as she takes the plastic wrap off—then he hesitates.

“What?” She asks, crumpling up the plastic wrap to toss into the trash can.

“Did you make these?” He asks, the space between his eyebrows scrunching. She can _see_ Bright smiling at the corner of the table, trying to hide his face with the file he’s reading and Dani lets out a puff of air.

“ _Yes,_ what of it?”

JT clears his throat, slowly pulling his hand back, “Maybe it’s best not to then.”

“Oh fuck you,” Dani pouts, picking one up for herself, “They’re absolutely edible.”

Bright sets the file down on the table, leaning forward to grab one as well in solidarity, “I supervised JT, they’re perfectly fine.” He takes a bite to prove his point, licking sugar off his lips, “Lemon glaze.”

He waves the scone gently in his direction as if to tempt him and Dani has half a mind to take the plate away from JT when he finally reaches for one. She narrows her eyes and plops down onto the seat across from Bright, the profiler’s smile amused and warm at her expression. His leg nudges into her own under the table as Gil comes into the conference room.

“Alright, what do we have so far about our victim?” He puts her picture on the white board. “Kerry Johnson, twenty-nine. The apartment we found her in is registered to her boyfriend, Neal Wood. He’s our prime suspect.”

Dani leans her elbows onto the counter, chewing on her lower lip as she wonders if this is going to be an ‘open and shut case’. She hates adopting that mindset because things are rarely what they seem but cases aren’t _always_ of the serial variety or a killer that takes them weeks to find based off a psychological profile. She should really learn to take advantage of cases like this one where it’s easier for them to provide justice for a victim.

“I talked to landlord before we left the apartment complex,” Dani voices, watching JT bite into the scone with a little too much reluctance. “He said that he knew the couple well, that Kerry always seemed too nice for a guy like Neal.”

JT puts a photo up of Neal next to Kerry and Dani looks away for a moment, the cold expression of his eyes digging too much underneath her skin. Sometimes it scares her—the possibility of never really _knowing_ what someone else is capable of.

“Neal has a few priors; assault and battery with a previous girlfriend before Kerry.”

Gil hums, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bright, you got anything to say about a profile?”

“Not much,” Malcolm says honestly, looking up at him as he plays with the corner of the file on the table next to his scone. “Neal has some typical traits of a possessive personality, given the amount of control he tried to exude over Kerry, not even to mention the violence.”

Dani drums her fingers onto the table; the best place to look for this guy would have to be back at his apartment, right? Waiting for the police to clear? “Do you think he feels guilty?”

“I didn’t say he was a sociopath,” Bright points out, pushing the scone plate towards JT when he wants another one. “I think he’ll try and leave the city but not without going back to his apartment first.”

“So that’s the best place to seek him out,” Gil nods in agreement, “Alright, Bright and Dani—I want you to head there but lay low, call for backup if you see him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Malcolm jokes to which Gil gives him a look that makes him wilt on the spot. He pushes the plate of scones further down the table. “Scone?”

“Did you make them?” He asks and Dani rolls her eyes when Malcolm motions that they came from her. Gil clears his throat, smiling a little too tightly as he taps the edge of the plate. “Maybe later.”

JT shrugs his shoulder, “They’re not bad actually.”

And Malcolm tugs her out of the room with a smile before she can say something she’ll regret.

\--

When her knee starts bouncing for the third time, Bright puts his hand down to stop her. He squeezes gently before pulling his touch back, Dani responding with a sigh that seems to fill up the space of the car.

“Is this about the scones or are you _really_ that impatient?”

Dani clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth; she’s not sure whether she’s more annoyed by the question or the fact that he knows her too well. “You know I _am_ capable of making something in the oven that’s edible.”

Bright grins, leaning his head back against the headrest. “I saw JT take three of them.”

“That was after you told him they were safe.” She shakes her head, taking a look out the windshield at the front of the apartment complex. There hasn’t been a lot of traffic in the last hour and a half.

“I think you scarred everyone after you brought in that lemon Bundt cake.”

“That was _one time,”_ She interrupts, curling her hair around her ear. “And it was vanilla.”

Malcolm raises an eyebrow, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to remember the flavor of what he ate when she brought in that baked disaster. He purses his lips, not saying anything for a moment because she looks like she might hit him before he clears his throat.

“Vanilla, huh.” He says slowly and it’s not a question.

Dani groans, running a hand over her face. “I’m never baking anything again.”

Bright lets out a soft laugh, turning to lean his shoulder against the back of his seat so he can get a better look at her. “Don’t be so defeatist,” He teases, “You’re going to have to come to my place at least one more time to bake, I got an idea about what we can make. You’ll like it.” Pressing with a promise. 

Dani licks her lips, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. She’s about to reply when she spots Neal looking incredibly shady and jumpy as he moves across the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder before entering the building and she’s already got her seatbelt off,

“Call Gil.” She tells Bright, who quickly digs his cellphone out of his pocket.

“You’re not waiting for backup? You’re spending too much time with me.” He says after her but she’s already got the door closed as she runs towards the entrance

\--

Dani moves quickly, knowing that it won’t take backup very long once Bright’s called them. She doesn’t plan on doing anything, exactly, she just doesn’t like the idea of taking her eyes off Neal until they get him into custody. What if he packs up and sneaks out the back? The guy isn’t exactly James Bond or anything, they’d be able to pick his ass up if he tried to leave the city but she doesn’t want it to go that far. She doesn’t want to take that chance.

So she follows him up to his floor and waits patiently down the hall, keeping her eyes on his apartment that he’s broken back into, tearing down the police tape. Dani takes a few steps forward, leaning against the wall, taking her gun out of her holster as a precaution. She hears furniture overturn and the sound of quickened footsteps and she hopes he isn’t about to do something stupid like try and scale the wall underneath his balcony because it’s not _that_ far of a jump. He could make it if he really wanted to.

She bites down on her lower lip, approaching the door with caution and glancing inside the open crack. There’s brief movement and Neal with a duffle bag…moving towards the open balcony and _fuck, fuck._ Dani knows she shouldn’t go in alone, the countless times she’s told Malcolm to wait for backup running like a tape in her mind as she shoulders the door open, gun raised.

“Freeze!” She yells but Neal already has one leg over the balcony.

Dani rushes forward and _grabs_ before he can properly hoist himself over—the problem is, however, that forces him back and lands him directly on top of her. She feels the wind get knocked out of her lungs as she lands on the concrete, Neal scrambling to get a better foothold. The door to the apartment slams open and Dani lets out a short sigh of relief as JT yanks Neal off of her, straightening him to stand while reading him his rights.

She sits up and holds onto her ribs, wincing as Gil nods at her from the doorway, “I’m not pairing you and Bright together anymore.” He says but at least she can tell he’s mostly joking with her as Malcolm moves through the doorway to help her up off the floor.

“We make a great team.” Malcolm argues with an amused smile to which Gil rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, of not listening.” He mumbles, waving them off as JT puts the cuffs on Neal to lead him out of the apartment.

Dani winces as Bright’s hand comes down on her side and he quickly pulls back at her expression. She shakes her head at the concern on his face, “Just got the wind knocked out of me. Could have been worse…I could be on the _other_ side of the balcony.”

She curls her hair around her ear, lifting her shirt up to check her ribs. She doesn’t think anything is broken or cracked, just sore and red—which is a relief because the last place she wants to be is in a hospital waiting room.

“Gil’s probably angry I went with my gut but I’ll fill out the necessary paperwork,” She lets out a slow breath, making her way out of the apartment with him. “Neal was about to make it out before anyone got here…sometimes you can’t just sit on your hands.”

“That’s what _I_ keep trying to tell people.” Bright insists, making a soft laugh leave Dani’s lips as they round the corner for the elevator.

\--

Despite being grumpy about it, she _does_ join Bright for another round of baking at his house on a Saturday morning. They’ve got no pressing cases, so Dani shows up in a pair of comfortable leggings and a simple olive-green t-shirt, her hair already pulled up in a loose bun. She sets down two cups of to-go coffee on Malcolm’s counter, leaning her elbows onto the cool surface.

“Okay, I’m here.”

He smiles, rolling up the sleeves of his black, waffle-knit sweater. “Well don’t look so depressed about it.”

She pillows her chin into her hand, lower lip jutting out just slightly, “I’m discouraged, I don’t think I’m going to be able to bake anything without your help.”

He smiles a little, getting out a bag of chocolate chips from his cabinets. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Dani considers the question for a moment before curling a loose strand of hair around her ear—no, she supposes it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to bake in Bright’s kitchen with him. Especially if it meant not setting anything she was trying to make on fire.

She sighs a little dramatically and winds the counter to where Malcolm is standing, opening the bag of chocolate chips to pop a few into her mouth. She then takes a sip of her coffee with a devious smile as Bright swipes the chocolate from her before she can fill up on it.

“Alright, what are we going to make that I’m probably going to unconsciously ruin.”

There’s a soft hesitance to Malcolm’s expression as he rolls the bag closed and rubs the back of his neck. She watches him, unsure of what he’s waiting for—is he trying to decide what to make? Dani wants to assure him that no matter how many times she says she’s good at messing up sweets, cakes and cookies alike that she’s _mostly_ kidding…his oven is probably safe with him nearby to help. She takes a step forward as he turns to grab something out of the freezer.

“I was thinking we could make that strawberry chocolate chip ice cream cake that you told me about.” He says as he sets down a tub of ice cream onto the counter.

Dani feels an emotion that she can’t quite describe hit her like a wave coming down onto her shoulders and whatever it is, it’s completely overwhelming. She hasn’t had that ice cream cake since the last birthday her father was around and had never asked him for a recipe even though she can currently get it from her grandparents, who are still alive. She found it hard to gather up the courage to ask, the memory somehow too painful even though it’s _not._ Her birthdays with her father always make her smile, thankful that she has them at all.

Bright misinterprets her silence, clearing his throat as he begins to take the ice cream to put it away. “Sorry, I didn’t…”

But Dani shakes her head, quickly ending his sentence with the only thing that makes sense for her to do. She presses herself into his space and _kisses_ him. It’s quick and soft and there’s too much emotion that she’s not really conveying, but that’s fine because Bright takes one look at her after she pulls back and leans down to kiss her again.

That time is more drawn out, mouths exploring, Bright wrapping his arms around her waist as Dani tilts her head into the kiss. He tastes like coffee and chocolate and a soft noise leaves her mouth when he begins to pull away, her arms winding around his neck.

He breathes evenly, an up tilt to his lips as he presses one last soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, “That…is not the reaction I was expecting.”

She smiles a little, scrunching her nose with a shrug of her shoulder, “I could hit you instead.”

“No thank you.” He says quickly, smiling against her lips as her hand rests against the back of his neck.

It takes them a while to make the cake but Dani doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and any comments or kudos that you offer! much appreciated :3 I'm at blainesebastian on tumblr if you'd like to say hello !


End file.
